


Making Fucking Love

by Natashasolten



Series: Pennsylvania Series [14]
Category: Wiseguy
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Pennsylvania series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:05:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natashasolten/pseuds/Natashasolten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny's feeling the past a little too harshly again, but Vinnie knows just how to handle him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Fucking Love

Sonny lay sleeping comfortably, half on his side and leaning on a thick pillow when he woke just enough to hear Vinnie get up in the dark and go into the bathroom. He turned more into the pillow, got comfortable, and slid back into the haze of sleep.

And there he was…

Standing on the raised platform staring at Vinnie’s ravaged face, thick, dark bangs hanging low in those sad blue eyes.

The pounding at the door grew louder.

Cops surrounded the Rialto. Sonny could fucking smell them. Stale doughnuts. Cold coffee. The tartness of their aggression. The sharpness of metal badges pushing their idealism into his reality.

And Vinnie was one of them.

He saw images of Vinnie before him like an instant download, mouthing off to Pat the Cat, grinning as he stole rings and watches from the Rabid Rabbit guys, desperately worried over his sick mom, trying not to bust up during the ceremony where he was “made,” smiling up at him naked in Sonny’s bed while a freak storm raged outside turning Atlantic City white.

That first time in bed Vinnie had been uncharacteristically shy at first (Vinnie usually went for everything with enviably strong confidence,) then tender, then enthusiastic and devoted. He had seemed so into Sonny.

Now he stood before Sonny like a challenger, like a sorry excuse for a judge, like the bars of a prison Sonny could never hope to claw his way out of.

God Sonny loved him so much. But now, during this whole horrible night and day locked together, he doubted everything. Vinnie and he talked, yes, and Vinnie had tried to convince him he still cared, but Sonny’s heart had crumbled and frozen into some unrecognizable lump. He could hear him, but he couldn’t hear him.

Vinnie was an alien. Vinnie was one of them. How could he love someone like Sonny? How could he ever?

He kept thinking he didn’t want it to be true. He kept trying, struggling to find anything to hang onto that could make things between him and Vinnie okay, change their reality, work it out. He kept thinking the ridiculous words of a guy too pathetically in love for his own good: Run away with me.

It was shameful how he felt. These feelings. Weak.

And now Vinnie’s real friends were coming to get him, to arrest him, to kill him. Vinnie’s people. Vinnie’s familia.

It just couldn’t be possible. Vinnie was going to arrest him. Then Vinnie was going to leave.

The mind could not process any of it. Refused.

But there Vinnie stood. I saw you garrote a man in my face!

Sonny thought he might burst into flame and that would feel great compared to what he was feeling right now.

Vinnie had to hate him. Someone like me. Had to.

He didn’t think about death or lethal injection or anything like that. All he thought of was that he would be arrested and Vinnie would leave. Vinnie would leave.

Vinnie don’t…

Don’t leave. Don’t go. Don’t stop loving me.

The door burst open.

He started to say it aloud. Disgusting how pathetic he was. He never groveled. “Don’t…”

Men spilled through the door yelling, weapons drawn.

A panicked look flew across Vinnie’s face.

He started to say his thoughts again, “Vinnie, don’t…” Don’t let them get me. Don’t leave me. He realized he really wasn’t saying them out loud, though.

Vinnie’s eyes were terrified. Sonny heard himself speak. The half-wakened memory garbled all sound. His voice was made of pleading nonsense, choked emotion. How could he be so stupid?

He thought it again, watching terror in Vinnie’s gaze, watching the crumbling of an entire universe. Vinnie, don’t…

And then Vinnie’s voice was in his ear, soft, almost too sweet, breath warm against sensitive skin. “Okay, I won’t.”

Sonny opened his eyes, realized he was shaking, realized he was talking out loud. “Vinnie, don’t…don’t…”

Vinnie just said, “Shh, you’re awake now.” His hand was on the side of Sonny’s head lightly petting.

After that, Sonny got his bearings pretty quickly. Pennsylvania. In bed. With Vinnie.

Vinnie asked, “You cold?”

Sonny just shook his head as his breathing finally relaxed. He thought things he didn’t want to be thinking, but he didn’t get a choice. Vinnie was a cop. More than a cop. A fucking Fed. Vinnie had had special training, long-term. He’d taken oaths. Sacrificed eighteen months of his life to go to prison to cement his cover. He was that much of a believer. He’d joined the religion of the boys in blue. Christ, how could there even be a question as to Vinnie’s loyalty? Sonny could not blame him. But also, Sonny could blame him. Vinnie didn’t have to sleep with him. Vinnie didn’t have to allow, no encourage, Sonny to fall in love with him.

“How can you love me?” The words came out of Sonny’s mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

“Huh?”

Sonny did not move but Vinnie kept absently stroking the side of his head. “Don’t play dumb. You just can’t possibly love someone like me.”

Vinnie tried to shrug the question off as if it didn’t matter. Sonny could tell. Vinnie didn’t want to answer.

“I mean,” Sonny insisted, “who I am. Who you are. It’s fucking insane…”

Voice a near-whisper. “Who you are is just…perfect.”

“Bullshit. I’m everything you hate. It must be…terrible for you…impossible…” Six months they’d been rather happily living together in Pennsylvania in Vinnie’s pretty little house. He knew the words were stupid. This whole conversation was stupid. But the nightmare reliving that awful day made it all seem like it had just happened yesterday.

Early dawn was seeping into the room. In the dim light, Sonny felt and saw Vinnie lean over him. The incredible blue eyes met and held his. An unfinished smile curved the corners of Vinnie’s mouth. He leaned down and kissed him so intently that Sonny’s whole body instantly heated and he forgot for a moment what he was thinking, saying.

Then Vinnie let up. Their eyes held again. Sonny tried to speak. There was nothing, just a blank. Vinnie leaned down again. Sonny could feel the heat and weight of him, so wonderful, so strong. He couldn’t stop loving Vinnie. It just kept coming, stronger every day. He started to lift his arms to the new kiss but Vinnie wasn’t kissing him. Instead, Vinnie put his head close to Sonny’s, cheek to cheek, and then Sonny started to hear him. Whispers in his ear. And the words were so tender, so sweet, he could barely contain them in his male-brained mind.

Vinnie whispered inane things about how Sonny was everything, Sonny was fantastic, smart, funny, gorgeous, and never boring; Sonny was the only person he’d ever wanted this intensely. He used the most cliché words like “you’re the only one” and “you’re fucking beautiful” and “you make my heart race.” Stuff that made Sonny want to roll his eyes, smack him out of the bed, throw things across the room like pillows and Vinnie’s damned shorts he always wore to bed.

But he couldn’t do any of those things. He felt himself melt, mold, arch into Vinnie, who kept whispering about how Sonny was his life, the other half of his soul. Damn him. He kept saying how much he loved Sonny’s body, then began to list the attributes.

Vinnie could be verbose in bed, but these whispers, these whispers… Sonny had long ago stopped shaking from his dream. He felt his breath hitch. Vinnie said stupid, fabulous, insipid, amazing things. How he loved every inch of Sonny. How he wanted to taste his skin everywhere. How he wanted to do things. He wanted to be making love to him all the time. Making fucking love!

The more Sonny thought he might want to hit him, the more he squirmed toward him, hands on Vinnie’s naked sides, pulling him closer, wanting, no demanding, to hear more.

His cock stood straight and stiff between his legs now. He could feel it throbbing and straining in flutters of utter pleasure to the whispering cadence, to the soft, rhythmic caress of Vinnie’s hand now on his chest.

Vinnie’s hand caressed lower toward his stomach. He kept whispering, stuff about Sonny’s skin texture, about his heat, his softness, his hardness, the taste of him like fucking golden syrup, like cotton candy. His hand brushed Sonny’s abdomen, then his thigh, ignoring for the moment the insistent nuzzling of his cock which wanted to follow Vinnie’s hand, wanted to burrow in it.

Then the whispers slowed a little. Softly, almost imperceptibly, Vinnie started telling him what he wanted him to do. Babe, spread your legs. That’s good. That’s so good. He lifted over Sonny and those damned shorts he always wore to bed weren’t there. That was simply wondrous in and of itself as Vinnie rested gently between his legs.

He lifted his head from Sonny’s ear and they looked at each other again.

Sonny said, trying to turn his grin into a smirk, “Ya gonna fuck me?”

Vinnie’s half-finished smile tightened. He replied softly, “I’m gonna make love to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And he pushed Sonny’s legs wider, caressing him down his thighs, one hand reaching between them.

Sonny was so aroused he could barely breathe. He could feel Vinnie just as hard brushing against the crease of his thigh and abdomen. He tried to shift into a better position. “Push my legs back and put it in me, then,” he ordered.

Vinnie said nonchalantly, “When you’re ready.” And he caressed Sonny within an inch of his life, fingers moist with lube Sonny had no idea Vinnie had had all along in the bed with them. Then Vinnie was opening him, finger caressing, moving inside him gently, reverently, and Sonny wanted to buck up onto it, drive it deeper, but Vinnie pulled back slightly, always slow and thorough. Vinnie was Vinnie. That was all there was to it.

Sonny rocked back. Vinnie smiled down at him, hair mussed at his forehead all shiny tangles and fucking devoted desire. Sonny bit down hard on his lower lip. “Fuck me.”

Vinnie kissed him soft, tongue delving lightly. When Sonny tried to grasp it with his own lips, it darted back. Vinnie pulled back a maddening inch. Sonny’s head came up, trying to meet his lips. Vinnie moved away, kissing his cheek, his jaw, then licking the side of his neck. The finger inside him moved in and out a little faster. Sonny’s cock responded with a jerk.

“Goddamn…,” he groaned.

Then Vinnie was at his ear again, telling him he was doing so good, that he was so beautiful, so gorgeous, so perfect, that he was everything…everything he wanted and that oh god he wanted him all the time, to be inside him, to make love to him, to give him pleasure…

And as Vinnie whispered, driving Sonny mad, Sonny whispered back, “Fuck fuck fuck.”

Vinnie’s finger retreated. Hands were at his thighs, pushing gently on his legs, spreading him wider, easing him back. Fingers caressed again between his buttocks, then he felt him, heard him say, “I want you” and Sonny groaned aloud “God, fuck me. Vincent, put it in, damn you!” And now he felt the pressure, the push, the fullness, the slide. Vinnie was slow and thorough. Vinnie was Vinnie after all. He used one hand to hold Sonny open, the other to support himself as he gazed down at Sonny who was tearing at his own lips with his teeth, wincing in abject pleasure, huffing air that suddenly seemed all too rare. And Vinnie had the gall to say, “I’m not hurting you?”

“Fuck no!” Sonny pushed up, sheathing him all the way. “God damn you, fuck me!”

Vinnie moved, ignoring Sonny’s cursing, saying how much he loved to make love to him, grinning down at Sonny’s contorted face. And he moved so fine, so nice, hitting that special spot, raking his big hard cock against it over and over until Sonny felt full and tight and the tingles all over his body were almost too much to bear. Hell, fuck and damn, Vinnie was gifted. Through gritted teeth Sonny said things like “Christ” and “Yeah” and “There, yes, there” and “Harder, fuck, I can feel every goddamn inch!”

Vinnie was moving over him, eyes getting more and more glazed, heavy-lidded with impending orgasm and Sonny held him tight, hands going as low as he could reach, pulling Vinnie toward him as Vinnie thrust, pushing up as much as he could under his weight.

Vinnie said, breathlessly, “God I love being in you” and Sonny gripped him tighter with his hands, fingernails digging in, not really caring if he hurt him just a little and said, “You bastard, just fucking fuck me!”

Vinnie was going deeper now, moving, sliding, jerking a little more now, less graceful, more desperate as Sonny lowered his voice and said, “Come on, come inside me, baby, yeah…” And Vinnie’s strangled voice managed to rasp out, “Oh god, I…it’s…I…” He had been so smartly articulate before. Sonny wanted to tease him about that, but instead he just said, “Yeah, come on,” and grabbed him higher up, pulling his head down to his shoulder, holding on to him through it all. It lasted a good long time, face pressed against Sonny’s neck, the whispered “ohgod ohgod” and how could Sonny not love this, or want anything other than this man pressed so tight against him, in him, orgasming in his arms?

His own cock was pressed hard between them, ready to explode. But Sonny ignored that as he held him through disintegration, rebirth. They’d both once agreed, neither of them had ever had such orgasms in their lives until they’d met each other.

Finally, still half-hard, Vinnie slid from him hotly, wetly. Sonny gasped at the sheer pleasure of that. Automatically, they both moved a couple inches toward Vinnie’s side of the bed to avoid the damp spot of Vinnie’s withdrawal. It was the type of thing that even six months into their post-Sonny-going-to-prison relationship neither one of them ever cared enough to complain about. A wet spot was practically unnoticeable to Sonny with the distracting electric charisma of Vinnie beside him in the bed.

Now Vinnie was moving, licking his way down his body. “That was, that was…,” he was trying to say to Sonny. “Damn.” He glanced up. Their eyes met again. Vinnie’s bangs were stuck to his forehead making him look young and innocent as he said, “You deserve a reward for that,” and Sonny just about died when Vinnie’s sweetness turned a little dirtier and he told him what that reward would be as his tongue started lightly licking his balls.

Sonny felt liquid drip down the shaft of his swollen cock and thrust up helplessly. Vinnie grabbed him about the base, gently, slowly stroking. The surprise and shock of Vinnie’s hot tongue on the head of his cock made him come up from the bed about two inches. Vinnie held him down and began the slow tongue-tease he knew Sonny liked, and Sonny thought he would simply, delightfully go mad right then.

Between licks, Vinnie said something about wanting his sweet taste…something really really dumb like that, and Sonny felt himself get even impossibly harder as lips began to encircle the head, as a hot mouth began to suck. Slowly, the mouth went down on him, slowly, too slowly, but he felt himself tingle and the waves of pleasure coursed like a strong tide throughout his body. He said, “Fuck, you keep doing that, you’ll taste something...”

Vinnie, mouth full, merely grunted, and increased the up-down movements, sucking harder and harder, and so sweet, so sweet… Sonny felt a scream begin to develop deep in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He felt his hips jerk up uncontrollably, the pull of Vinnie, the incredible dream that was Vinnie’s mouth on his too-hard cock too much to bear. He felt it building and building and building until he crested higher than he’d ever been. The world went white. He didn’t have anything of himself left now, just the pulsing pleasure, the ecstasy, the sheer whirlwind of terrific sweet bliss. The scream seemed like it would be loud, deafening. It came out strangled, a stuttered cry.

He was a goner.

How could Vinnie love someone like him? He guessed the answer didn’t matter, because Vinnie did, with all his heart, all his being. Because Vinnie was on him, licking him clean, then holding him, hugging him, petting him, and damn him, kissing him long and deep and forever.

A hand ran along his side, over his ass, pulling him closer. They were wrapped around each other.

Finally, Vinnie pulled back. He said softly, “Did that settle it now?”

“Settle what?” Sonny asked, drifting, thoughts all but gone.

“It isn’t a matter of how I could love someone like you. It’s simply that I do.” He gave him a sheepish, closed mouth smile.

Sonny grimaced, grabbing him by the hair, then yanking him none too gently forward for another kiss. If anyone ever knew how they really talked to each other in bed, he’d never live it down. But that didn’t matter. It was Vinnie with him, only and always Vinnie, and everything they said to each other or did together felt so natural and fine.

No, he’d never smack Vinnie out of bed for talking the way he did. Never. He pulled back, fingers tangled in Vinnie’s hair, and said, “Okay, you win, I love it when you make fucking love to me.”

Vinnie let out a soft, short burst of a laugh.

Then he said the words he’d woken up saying. “Vinnie, don’t…” And added, “Just don’t ever stop.”


End file.
